Life is Like a Dream
by The Mirage
Summary: Dreams and memories plague the mind of a young Huntsclan apprentice, causing her to question all that she has learned during her last four years. They strike her like a nightmare when she is faced with the crisis of determining good and evil...
1. Something Missing

**Disclaimer**: Typical, I guess. I don't own ADJL, the Huntsclan, or anything of the sort. Only Kara.

**Chapter One:** Something Missing…

They say life is like a dream, blissful and heavenly, but they just don't know. Sometimes, when a person wakes up from a dream she thinks about how awesome it was, but then two seconds later, she can't remember a thing about it. And that's just how I feel about my life; I can sense that there's something I'm missing, but I just can't put my finger on it. Every time I come close to remembering something – something possibly important – the memory fades away like the mist.

But there is a lot that I do remember. I have a name; it's Kara, or Huntsgirl, I guess. I remember training back at the Huntsclan academy with my best friend, #74. Back then, he and I were still novices, me being #73. I was eleven at the time, I think, and a bit pale and a little shy. My first real memories were from the Academy, too. I remember being in a small room, sitting quietly and peering nervously around, though I'm not sure how I got there. Then a big man came in; he was well-muscled and wearing some sort of creature's skull around his head. I was scared of him at first, with his aggressive stance and his cold gaze, but he was able to calm me down. He told me that my parents were killed by dragons and that he had brought me to the Academy to raise me. I thought he was lying; surely if something like that had happened, I would have remembered. But I didn't, so I just left it. He went on to show me something on my wrist: a little dragon wrapped around my arm and stretching to spread its wings on the back of my hand. I thought it was rather pretty at first and chuckled a little, but the man slapped my hand, growling that it wasn't funny. He pointed to the birthmark and told me that it meant that I was 'one of them'.

It wasn't until later that I learned what 'one of them' meant. Apparently, my birthmark was called the 'mark of the Huntsclan' and that it meant one thing: I was born to slay dragons. It made sense, too; dragons killed my parents, so it must be my destiny to take my revenge and slay them. Simple enough. That was easy to accept. In the next few months, since I was too young to begin learning any physical techniques, I began to learn the history of this Huntsclan I was a part of.

Over a thousand years ago, magical creatures wreaked havoc on the earth under the rule of a single dragon, known simply as the Dark Dragon. Three great warriors, Adelmar the Noble, Aiolos the Quick, and Sophus the Clever, stood up to the Dark Dragon and, after many long moons, were able to defeat the vile creature. They took an oath over the dragon's slain body to rid the world of these unnatural beings, from leprechauns to ogres, and especially dragons. Adelmar, Aiolos, and Sophus were the first Huntsclan masters, and after their deaths, the Old Huntsclan emerged to follow in their footsteps.

The Old Huntsclan carried out the wishes of the three masters for thousands of years, until one day when one of their own betrayed them. This happened just before I was born. The Old Huntsclan was devilishly close to realizing the goal we all work for; the Huntsmaster then was in possession of thirteen Aztec Crystal Skulls and could use them to irreversibly wish for the destruction of all magical creatures. But just as he was about to make his wish, The Betrayer stunned him and instead wished for the destruction of the Huntsclan. Our predecessors were all vaporized by the power of the skulls, and the Huntsclan was left with only two apprentices who had resigned to save their own lives.

Traitors though they were, these two apprentices were able to keep alive the traditions and memory of the Huntsclan until a new generation was able to take up the mantle. Nine years after The Betrayer's wish, the New Huntsclan was born.

I found myself initially questioning this whole reality. I would have been nine when the New Huntsclan appeared and I just couldn't believe that an entire organization like it, not to mention the magical world, could have been formed without the world knowing about it. News should have gotten out, and I would have known about it if it had existed. Or maybe I did know…I'm not sure. And that's what convinced me: if I couldn't remember enough about myself, I didn't think there was any way that I would remember something like the Huntsclan.

And did it really matter anyway? I didn't know much, and all that I was completely sure of was that I was…here. Here, at the Academy. Maybe this strange man, the Huntsmaster, was telling me the truth. Maybe my parents really were dead. Maybe…I really was born to slay dragons.


	2. The Museum

**Disclaimer**: Same as before. I'm too lazy to continue this at the top of every chapter, so this'll be the last.

Also, thanks to those who reviewed chapter one. In response to one of the reviews, the Huntsman is not 88 or 89, but I will say that these two will have a role in this story…other than being briefly mentioned before.

I'm in the middle of my final exams for the year too, so I might not update again until Tuesday or Wednesday. I might get in another chapter tomorrow, but if it's anything like this one, it'll take longer than a day.

**Chapter Two:** The Museum

I remember my first classes at the Academy. I was eleven, pale skinned with shoulder-length auburn-colored hair and dusky brown eyes. I wasn't the tallest in my class, but I wasn't the shortest either. I wore the standard uniform: dark green from top to bottom, black boots and protective shoulder padding, with holes cut out of my mask for my eyes. I was kind of just…normal, I suppose you could say. Because I wasn't yet thirteen, I was only put into the most basic classes along with other young students, usually around my age. We would study the types of magical creatures and what the best way to slay them was. These classes also worked towards diminishing our cynicism towards the Huntsclan motives by providing us with 'evidence' that magical creatures were disgusting, unnatural beings…in effect, an attempt at preventing another betrayal or rebellion.

I was just barely a novice then, #73, but I was a diligent student, and was soon able to show off my superior knowledge of slaying techniques to the class. I knew that brownies were eagerly coaxed into a fight, unicorns could not maneuver very well when running at high speeds and were best taken out then, and that dragons could be slain with a slash to their soft underbellies or a solid blow behind their left ears. Before a year had passed, I was placed in advanced technical classes where I was able to learn the basic uses of the stun staff that was assigned to all field hunters.

It was a bit awkward at first, learning to use the staff. My staff was taller than I was, which made it difficult to maneuver with it, and when I tried to fire the energy blasts, the kickback was nearly too much for me. The bulk of the weapon made it hard to carry for long distances or use in close combat. Eventually I got used to it, but not after some sharp reprimand. I was incessantly called 'the shame of the Huntsclan' by the masters; forced to hold back my stingy replies for fear of something worse than verbal reprimand, I merely bowed my head and said I would do better next time…if there was a next time.

And there would be a next time, of course. After all, I hadn't anywhere else to go and I didn't think even the Huntsclan would oust one of their youngest members into the world to fend for herself. I was naïve then, I admit. But what else could I have done? This was all I knew, so I just stuck with it, trying to keep my chin high and practice until I was more skilled than many of my elders…even some who had already been out in the field. By the time my twelfth birthday came around, I was all but ready to join the Huntsmaster out in the field…at least on short hunts for weaker creatures. I doubt that I would have lasted a minute against a dragon at that point, despite my training. Yet, I was still too young. I would have to wait in the novice classes for another year, listening to the professors give numerous lectures about dragon-slaying potions and the dangers of hand-to-claw combat. I went through the same exercises everyday: first the standard stretches, a mile-and-a-half run, and reflex training, and then either uniform group combat movements or the hated obstacle course.

The months passed slowly, with only brief moments of excitement. Occasionally a unicorn or something would be brought in to be slain in an assembly meant to teach us, since apparently a slaying technique is better seen from hundreds of feet away than from in a book. Another brilliant idea, you know. Besides that, I shared a room with two other novices, #72 and #74. #72 was younger than #74 and I, and she preferred to spend time in the recreation lounge of the Academy, so I didn't see much of her. But #74 and I were around enough to get to know each other better, and we became friends fairly quickly.

It turns out that both of his parents were of the Huntsclan, though he was already nine at the time the New Huntsclan was founded. He was made a novice at that age, and he rarely saw his parents in anything less than a professional encounter. It was sort of strange at first, hearing this. I didn't really feel much for my parents at the time, since I couldn't remember them. And besides, they died. But the way #74 talked about his parents seemed almost unreal; he saw them almost daily, but he felt more kinship towards the entire Clan than to them.

#74 was a cool person, though. He and I got up to all sorts of mischief in our time together, at one time mixing small amounts of pixie dust and shredded sprite wings into krylock venom, so that the next time it was used, the potions room would become engulfed in malodorous orange smoke. #74 always knew how to cheer me up, too. Whenever I was feeling down, he would do something, like sneak things out of the kitchen and have a 'romantic' dinner with me or bring me 'flowers' made of spare pieces of cloth and paper. His dry sense of humor also amused me; his satirical speech was usually able to get a chuckle out of me.

The day before my thirteenth birthday, and likewise my first night out in the field, he brought me to the Museum of Artifacts below the Academy. There were lots of interesting things there, from old paintings of mythical beings and battle scenes, to the three statues Adelmar, Aiolos, and Sophus. The two of us had a nice day browsing through the museum, and we were about to leave to go prepare for my ascension to the rank of Huntsclan apprentice, but #74 insisted that we go see the Old Huntsclan exhibit.

As I walked into the room next to #74, a sudden feeling of anguish passed over me. I halted in my steps and my eyes swept the room. All that was there were pieces of old weaponry, a tattered cape, and a few fragments of what seemed to be a dragon's skull. I could hear #74's voice, like he was trying to explain something to me, but it was distant, as if he were a mile away. After a few moments, the room faded away and I found myself on a rooftop, staring at the same cape and dragon skull I had just seen, but now worn by a man that was even larger than the Huntsmaster.

For a while, all I could do was stare. His cold eyes seemed to be gazing right at me, but if he could see me, he didn't show it by even a muscle's twitch. A girl was standing next to him, and as she took off her mask, I recognized her as the Huntsgirl from long ago, known now as The Betrayer. Her eyes seemed fixed on a spiky-haired boy a few feet in front of her, gleaming with a mixture of regret and grim determination. I knew what she was thinking, and I knew that she had thought hard about it…very, very hard.

All of a sudden, battle broke loose. There were dragons…more than I wished to count. Where did they all come from? One was scarlet-colored; it had the same green-tinted spiky black hair as the boy from before, so I guessed that it was the dragon that The Betrayer had fallen in love with. But…she was battling with it. Probably to feign loyalty to the Huntsclan, at that point, really. As I watched, horror-stricken from the edge of the building, one of the dragons flew right at me. It was an elder dragon, long-bodied and slender, and I was certain that it had seen me and was coming to attack. Without a weapon, I raised my arms to defend myself, bracing for the impact, but it never came. I spun around to see the dragon pinned down by several Huntsclan members, none of which seemed to pay any attention to me. That was fine, really; I was confused as it is.

Just as quickly as the battle started, it was over. The Betrayer was standing over the American Dragon and the Huntsman was walking away from her, the thirteenth Aztec Skull in his hands. My eyes narrowed in confusion; everything seemed fine, so what had gone wrong?

"Well done…Huntsgirl," the Huntsman said, still walking away.

The Betrayer hesitated, casting a last glance back at the dragon before following the Huntsman. I noticed her grip her staff more tightly; the look of regret in her eyes was now lost, and all that was left was pure determination. I longed to move forward and warn the Huntsman of what was about to happen, but I knew it would never help. What had happened…had happened. History couldn't be changed. I could only watch helplessly as the scene unfolded.

The Huntsman raised the thirteenth Skull over his head and called out, "By the Pantheon of Aztec Skulls, I hereby wish for the destruction of all…"

And then it happened. The Betrayer raised her staff, took aim, and fired a single shot at the Huntsman, striking him squarely in the back. He fell, leaving the Skull suspended in the air. Time seemed to slow at that moment. The Betrayer dropped her staff, which was still crackling with energy from the last blow it had dealt, and stepped forward, reaching to take the Skull. I was almost willing something to happen, and for the Skull to fall to the ground and break. If it had, maybe things would have been different. The Betrayer's wish would have never been granted, the Huntsclan would never have been destroyed, and…

"The destruction of all Huntsclan!"

If time had been slow before, it had all but stopped now. Each member of the Huntsclan had their eyes trained on The Betrayer, looks of anger, fear, and defeat visible on their faces. None moved; they were too shocked to move. The person they had known as Huntsgirl, a comrade, had turned on them, and their lives, spent in service to the Huntsclan, now meant nothing.

I found myself just as still as the rest, suddenly unable to move. My mind swirled with confusion and anger. Why was I seeing this? Wasn't it enough that this very day loomed over the minds and darkened the thoughts of all Huntsclan members, from the weakest novices to the strongest masters, to this day? It was all like a dream, but as horrible as a nightmare.

Something touched my shoulder, and as I turned to see what it was, I found myself face to face with #74…back in the museum, and back in reality.

"73, are you okay? You look a little shaken," he said. His hand was still on my shoulder, and I was grateful for it. I was more than just 'a little shaken' and was reassured by his presence.

"Oh, I'm fine. What was it that you were saying?" I replied, trying to hide my weariness. I didn't want to worry him. After tonight, I would be going out into the field, which meant I could be going anywhere. #74 and I might never see each other again, and if we did, it wouldn't be the in same relationship we had now.

"Well, I was…ah, don't worry about it. Tomorrow's your big day and you're probably just stressed out. Let's get back to our room," he said. He turned around and headed back for the stairs up to the dormitories. When I didn't follow, he looked back at me curiously. After a moment, I followed him, though I moved with a dreamlike slowness. I couldn't help feeling that I had seen the final moments of the Old Huntsclan for a reason, though I couldn't figure out why. They weren't my memories. In fact, I would have barely been born at the time it had happened. If there was some deep, philosophical reason that I saw the scene, it escaped me. All I had learned was that The Betrayer had done something irreversibly horrible, and that a filthy, disgusting dragon was at the center of all this. I already knew this, and the vision just left me with a sense of anger that I knew would never be quelled until every vile magical creature was wiped from the face of the earth.


	3. Our Separate Ways

Thanks to those who reviewed. In response to a question:

- Jake and Rose /might/ be in this fic. I'm not completely sure yet. I kind of wanted to wait until I found out what happened in Hong Kong Longs before adding anything about them. They would be in their twenties at the time this takes place, so what happens in that episode would definitely affect this. But, of course, I could just make stuff up. There's always that. I guess you'll just have to keep reading, eh?

**Chapter Three:** Our Separate Ways

#74 and I went back to our quarters that night slowly, making every attempt to go the long way around things and 'inspect' every wall for 'enemy tampering'. Eventually though, we were told off by one of the masters so we decided that it would be best if we just got on back to our room.

We both stayed up late, clearly aware that this night could be our last together. As I've probably said, we became good friends during our training. Although neither of us said much, I don't think it could have been more obvious that he and I were both wishing that by some freak chance, we would be assigned to the same base, and ideally serve both of our apprenticeships under the same master. I could see it in his eyes; however much I didn't want to let go of him, he didn't want to let go of me even more.

But was it really _him _that I didn't want to leave, or was it just this sense of being in the familiar. Much as I hate to admit it, the time I had spent in the Academy had formed a bond between me and my peers. I wasn't just me anymore. I wasn't a lost girl without a family. I had a family: the Huntsclan. I was part of something big now. Everyone in the Huntsclan – me, #74, the masters, everyone – was working towards something enormous. Eccentric, yes, but definitely huge. It didn't matter that I had no mother, or no father, or anything. The whole Huntsclan was my family, and that was all that mattered. I went to sleep that night with that same thought in my head. I thought I would be reassured, but I was not to be blessed by peaceful dreams so soon after the sight I had at the museum.

I was once again a spectator in my own mind, though this time I could see no one. I was in a house, and more specifically what seemed to be the room of a young girl. There was a crib in the corner, and stuffed animals scattered about the ground. Everything seemed achingly familiar, but I didn't know why at first. I took a few steps over to the window. The blinds were closed, so I reached to open them. But as I moved them to the side, there was nothing. 'Outside' was blank, like a canvas that was never painted on. I recoiled from them, my hand still suspended in the air, and my eyes widening in fright as the blinds swung back and forth, then finally came to a halt. I let my arm drop, and my hand came to rest on a dresser. There was a mirror, and I saw myself reflected in it. Not #73, though. This was me as I appeared when I first arrived at the Academy, two years ago. A slight smile crossed my face; I didn't often see this side of me. More often than not, I was decked out in my Huntsclan outfit, practicing Kung Fu moves, or something of the sort. But this was actually _me_, rosy-cheeked with softly curling hair.

The feeling didn't last, though. The sound of laughter began to grow behind me, and I turned about to look. There were three people: a man, a woman, and a child that didn't seem much older that a few months. I didn't tense up at the sight of people this time; I knew that I was as invisible to them as the outside of this room was to me. Instead of recoiling from them, I nonchalantly headed towards them, as if I were being guided by some unseen force. My gaze settled on the child, being held by the woman. Both had the same russet-colored eyes, and I could only assume that they were mother and daughter. And that would make the man the little girl's father. The girl raised her arms and began to reach playfully for her mother's face, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. But my own eyes were attracted to the girl's left arm. I could see a faint mark winding its way around her wrist, and…

In that moment, I realized why the room seemed familiar. It was my room, from long ago…from when I was very young and living with my parents. The little girl was me, and the man and the women around her were…my parents. _My_ parents. Finally I got to see their faces again. But as soon as I realized this, the scene began to fade away, and I found myself being pulled away from them. Just as my family was about to fade away completely, the little girl…or, really I, began to cry, and my mother reached for her…my hand and held it tightly. I tried to move forward, back towards them, but then they were gone, and I was left alone. Once again, alone.

"Don't cry, little one. We will always be a family, and nothing can change that."

Even after the scene had completely faded away, that single phrase echoed in my mind. It seemed that multiple voices were speaking, but the sound was uniform. Despite what I was being told, tears began to form in my eyes. But they weren't tears of sorrow, they were tears of anger. I clenched my fists and ducked my head. My eyes were closed firmly, and my mind was screaming for me to do something, to do _anything_. But what could I do? Fate took me away from them, and fate put me here to become part of the Huntsclan. I was given this birthmark for a reason, and my 'family' just was never meant to be.

"You're wrong. We might have been a family once, but no more. We have gone our separate ways, and that's that," I said, every word dripping with antagonism and regret. It was true. Something had changed, and however much I might wish things had been different, we were no longer a family anymore. That little girl wasn't me. She couldn't be, because I wasn't myself anymore, and the sooner I accepted that, the better off I would be.

I blinked my eyes open and found myself curled up in my bed. Turning my head to the side, I could see #72 and #74 still asleep in the bunk they shared, #74 on the top bunk, and #72 below him. That was good. I would really rather not talk to them this morning; I could do without all of the sentimental, icky-gooiness that I'm sure they would both bring up. Soon, I would be up in the Hunts-council chambers awaiting my apprenticeship assignment.

I sat up and tried to relax. My legs dangled loosely over the side of the bed and my fingers tapped out a soft rhythm against the bed frame. Now would be the time that I would start to pack, but I didn't really have much of anything to call my own at the time. Figuring that I may as well make an early appearance at the council chambers, I dropped to the floor and set out, pulling my mask on, and not once looking back. I couldn't show weakness this close to my apprenticeship; the dream, my final day at the Academy…they were just part of my last training exercise here. Mere obstacles, that's what they were.

Sooner than I had expected, I found myself standing on the threshold of the council chambers. Two sentries stood at the doors, staffs in hand. One looked down upon me, apparently sizing me up. I returned his gaze coolly, and after a moment, he allowed me in. I bowed respectfully, and stepped inside, narrowing my eyes angrily. The look the sentry had given me…it was almost as if he was questioning my strength. _No one_ questioned my strength then; I made sure of that. Skill, maybe, but never strength.

I kept a brisk pace as I made my way to the center of the room until I was standing directly in front of the Huntsmaster. My cool anger had all but vanished, and I was instead met with a feeling of nervousness. The Huntsmaster had a way of demanding respect without saying a single word – something I had sheepishly tried to mimic for quite some time, but could never pull off. But him…yes, just being able to look into his eyes without flinching was easier said than done. I bowed to him, crouching on one knee, as I waited for him to give me my assignment. My eyes were staring at the ground, though I could just barely make out the figure of the Huntsmaster tipping his head to look down upon me and the shapes of the council members lined up behind him.

"Ah, yes, number 73. You are here for your assignment," the Huntsmaster said. I tensed up involuntarily, wondering whether I should answer or stay still. But before I could say anything, he went on, "You were the top of your class, I see. There is one faction that is having trouble with a certain family of dragons. I think you would have the most worth there. Now, rise."

I got to my feet quickly, standing still as a board. I still hadn't a clue where I was going. I had heard from one of the masters that the twenty-fourth squadron down in the south was having difficulties completing their missions. I wasn't completely sure where that was, though – just that it was…south. But then again, there were lots of places south of upstate New York.

"Welcome aboard, Huntsgirl."

I had to hold myself back from delivering a sharp reply. Did I not deserve to know where I would be spending the next few years of my life? However, I was rather thrilled to have a new title. Being called 'Huntsgirl' was nothing to be taken lightly. The names 'Huntsgirl' and 'Huntsboy' were only given to one or two new apprentices in each generation, usually to those who had proven to be adept hunters straight out from the Academy. Although it was not unheard of for Huntsgirls and Huntsboys to train abroad, it was quite common for one or more Huntsgirls or Huntsboys to accompany the Huntsmaster's squadron on hunts, so that they would one day be skilled enough to compete for the title of Huntsmaster or Huntsmistress on the occasion of the death of the current Huntsmaster. After all, the Huntsclan could not accept anything less than the strongest of its members to be its leader. Therefore, Huntsgirls and Huntsboys were often revered almost as much as the Huntsclan masters themselves. The Betrayer was once called Huntsgirl, though she has long since been denounced from that title.

I nodded swiftly and turned around to leave the chamber. I expected that I would be flown by helicopter to my destination later in the day with any other Academy graduates headed in the same direction. As I left the chamber, the cheeky sentry from before once more watched me curiously, though this time…I daresay I saw a glimmer of respect in his eyes. I suppose he must have heard; the doors weren't sealed, after all.

I met #74 on the way to the helipad, but neither of us really had anything to say to each other. The look on his face almost killed me, though; there was regret there, as well as anger and hurt. There was an unspoken question between us: why I hadn't said good-bye. There was an awkward pause; I furrowed my brows in frustration at the silence. After a few moments, I tried to break through the barrier between us.

"So, 74, I guess I'll be seeing you," I said, hoping that he would reply with one of his sardonic remarks, meant more to joke than to sting. But I wouldn't be met with that luxury.

"Leave it, 73 - " he started.

"Huntsgirl, actually…" I interrupted. It seemed like almost an impulse when I said that, but I knew immediately that I shouldn't have cut him off.

"Fine, _Huntsgirl_. I'll see you in the field," he said, then walked away. From the way he was holding his posture, I could tell that 'I'll see you in the field' was his way of telling me that he had nothing more to say to me. And honestly…I couldn't blame him. I had told #74 that we would go around some of our old haunts in the Academy – namely, those where we indulged in the most mischief – this morning before I left, but I hadn't stuck around long enough to give him the chance to do that with me. That must have stung, and it was rather jealous of me to leave early just because I didn't want to deal with a good-bye.

It was my fault, but #74 and I were destined to go our separate ways. I knew I would miss his sarcasm and antics, but at the same time, I also knew that I needed to move on. I had my entire apprenticeship in front of me, and I couldn't falter in my step over one person. If he wanted to waste his energy dwelling on my decision, that was his problem.


	4. Taken?

Thanks to those who reviewed. In response to a question:

- Eh, no…Rose isn't her mother. That would kind of be odd. Kara was born about two months before Jake and Rose's Homecoming night. So…just no.

Also, I just realized that the name 'Kara' has already been used in the series…one of the oracle twins. I had just picked the name because my character reminded me of my friend who's named Kara. xD

I would say something about her meeting #74, but that would just ruin something, so…sorry.

This chapter isn't really working for me, so it's not that great. And, frankly, this story really isn't working for me either, so it might end up being a little short. Though, I do have a stunning idea for a sequel, so watch for that once this is done.

**Chapter Four:** Taken?

Florida. I got sent to Florida, to the absolute worst faction of Huntsclan out there, under the watch of the two worst masters. I doubt more than three of the entire squadron had ever slain a single magical creature, and I wasn't even completely sure half of them could even find their way out of a paper bag, nonetheless find their way to a unicorn herd, or a clan of leprechauns. _How_ was I ever going to be able to slay my first dragon under these bumbling fools?

At least the helicopter ride wasn't bad, though it took a while going from New York all the way to the Keys. I was riding with four other new apprentices – the June bunch. But though we all shared the same birth month and year, there was no sense of equality between us. Numbers 86 and 92 grumbled indignantly about how they were not named Huntsgirl and Huntsboy, respectively, and looked down upon the rest of us. Number 43 pretended to sleep but we all knew she was just waiting from something to happen so she could throw one of us out, or something of the sort, and number 13 jabbered on about the poor quality of education we were all receiving, talking about how we would never learn the fundamental algebraic procedures because we were too busy learning the fundamental weaponry procedures for slaying dragons. And I…well, I just sat there. There really wasn't much to say. If I even mentioned that I was named Huntsgirl, I'm sure that 86 and 92 would have attacked, 43…well, she wouldn't have done anything, and 13 would have fixed his gaze on me and told me that I was wasting too much of my energy on something that didn't matter…none of which are good conversation starters.

One by one, all four of them were dropped off. The last, number 13, departed in Georgia…Atlanta, I think. Then, I still had hope. There were still a few bases left, including the Sarasota base, where I heard there were some handsome masters, just finished with their own training…erm…yeah.

But after we passed _that_ base, all I could bring myself to do was stare at the sky. The only one left was down in the Florida Keys. I should have known – family of dragons. Duh. The only ones I knew of lived in New York, and the other in…Florida. I should've known. But at least I would have a few dragons to choose from to make my first slaying.

Sooner than I had expected, the helicopter began its descent and landed on an open strip of beach. A few sprigs of grass had sprouted about the sandy ground, and it didn't look like anybody had been here…ever. I wasn't sure where my new base was, but I wasn't sure the masters piloting the helicopter would be much help, either. Still, I suppose I should try to ask.

"Master, may I ask where the base is?" I said, tipping my chin down respectfully. Maybe I could win him over.

But I was just met with a cold stare. He more or less bundled me out of the helicopter and I was left standing on the beach, kind of alone, and without directions. Yeah, didn't think he would be much help.

So there I was. Just…there. But it didn't take me long to find the base. It was in an old long-abandoned military bunker. An interesting location, if I do say so myself. And I had an even more interesting entrance.

Staff in hand, I stepped up to the threshold of the base and heaved the door open. There were telltale signs of Masters 4 and 5, including a comical sign that hung above the main entrance: a clean lair is a happy lair. Yes, very much like what I had heard.

It didn't take long to spot them. There they were, bragging about one of their many adventures in the Old Huntsclan, back when they were Huntsboys 88 and 89. The title must have been a lot easier to get back then, because they didn't look like much. But still, they _did_ have dragon skull helmets, which meant they must have slain a dragon sometime in their lives. Maybe. It can't be that hard; after all, if what they say is true, they've been in the field longer than I've lived. They've had thirteen years, and even a blind squirrel finds an acorn once in a while.

The shorter one, the old 88, was standing in front of the apprentices they were sent to train, all of which looked rather bored. The old 89 was behind him making hand motions to go along with their recollection of when they had faced the infamous American Dragon. They didn't seem to notice me – any of them - so I just waited at the door, leaning against the wall and waiting for the perfect moment to interject.

"And we were like 'you're going down dragon' and he was like 'spare me…", he said.

"Mmhmm. I see. Something must have happened, though, because last time I checked, the American Dragon still lives," I said, rather sardonically.

88 and 89 stopped mid-motion, their arms still in the air, and a few of the apprentices turned their heads to stare at me curiously. This was the first time I really got a good look at them all; the apprentices looked strong enough, but 88 and 89, now masters 4 and 5, just looked like overgrown apprentices, really. Not much to them; they were kind of lanky and…just no. And now they were acting as if they had never seen a Huntsclan apprentice before. Very professional.

I raised an eyebrow and headed off to a side door, calling out, "I'm guessing the quarters are this way. I'll just pick a room for myself."

And so I did. I never really had anything to put _in_ the room, but at least I had one. I didn't really spend a lot of time there, though. Despite my first impression of the faction, masters 4 and 5 took us all out often, usually in the morning right as the sun was coming up. They said that was when the dragons came out, though I was fairly sure it was just _our_ presence that made the dragons come out and not the morning factor of it.

But the dragons did come out…during my first mission, and every time after that. There were two, a full-grown dragon and a younger one that always moved awkwardly. The older dragon was a murky green color with darker brown stripes on its neck, back, and tail, while the younger was cream-colored with brown ridges along its back. I never really saw one without the other, so I'm guessing the older dragon was training the younger. Not that it really mattered; they were going to be slain anyway.

On my first outing, we had laid a trap for them…_my_ design, of course. And it worked, to an extent. We had captured the younger dragon and were waiting for the older dragon to show up. And it did. Masters 4 and 5 headed after it while I and another apprentice, #27, watched the younger. Naturally, the older dragon got away from our valiant masters and was able to fling the both of us away like we were bundles of straw. Before we knew it, both of the dragons were flying off as if nothing had happened.

That night was a disappointing one. And my dreams didn't help. Once again, I was placed on the building top, the same night I had last dreamed of, I think – The Betrayer's Homecoming night. The Huntsclan was gone this time, and I could only see the Betrayer and the American Dragon…

"Rose, why did you?" the dragon said. He was in his human form: something I had become familiar with back in the Academy.

"I said there was only one way this could end, and this is it. With the destruction of the Huntsclan," the Betrayer said. There was a cold determination in her eyes. Why did she feel so strongly about this?

"But you're one of them…that means - "

"I know what it means," the Betrayer said, cutting the dragon off. "But even if we destroy the skulls, they know your human identity, Jake. They'd find your family like they did mine. This way, they'll be safe. They'll _all_ be safe."

I found myself taking a few steps back. What did the Betrayer mean by 'they'll find your family like they did mine'? Did the Huntsclan do something to them, or…?

Maybe she really did have a reason…maybe she wasn't the one who committed an unspeakable crime on the Huntsclan. Maybe, it was the Huntsclan who committed an unspeakable crime…on her, and her family.

"But…"

The Betrayer…Rose, began to rise. I just watched, again unable to move, even if I had wished to.

Rose looked down and began to speak to the dragon softly, but the words she spoke thundered in my head loudly.

"Thank you, Jake – for everything," she said, every word filled with love and anguish. "I'll never forget you."

"Rose, no," the dragon…Jake, said. He reached up and grabbed her hand as she began to drift away. There was pain accented in every line of his body. He really loved her, and she…she really loved him.

"Jake, let go. I'll be okay, I promise," Rose said. There was a long pause, and I could tell she was fighting to keep her voice steady. "I'll be okay."

He let her go, and she began to float up towards the sky, to have her essence absorbed the power of the Aztec Crystal Skulls. I had never really thought about it, but…the Betrayer must have felt so strongly about this, for some reason, that she would have done something that would have sacrificed her own life for the well-being of magical creatures. It would have gone against _everything_ she had ever learned, but still, she was completely committed…

The dragon's voice rung out and snapped me back into the reality of the dream. He had taken up the fallen Aztec Skull and was holding it loosely while staring up at the Betrayer.

"She deserves a normal life, with a family who cares about her," he said. He raised the skull above his head and, just as the Betrayer began to fade, he called out, "I wish Rose was never taken by the Huntsclan!"

I stared horrorstruck as one word echoed through my mind…

Taken?


	5. Destiny

Thanks to those who reviewed. In response to Kates Master's questions:

- Yes, the older dragon is indeed Cousin Greggy, now…26 years old? 27? Something like that. But you haven't met the younger dragon. She'll serve her purpose soon, but I won't say anything now.

- Jake is still the American Dragon in New York and, as far as I'm concerned, has Rose with him…just because I love them together. Haley's off somewhere else doing her dragon thing.

One thing to understand, though, is that by this time, there _is_ a second Huntsclan, but there are also many more American dragons around. Not _the_ American Dragon, but several more American dragon students.

And LP? Thanks for the constructive criticism. It's much appreciated. I'll try to work on that, though I normally don't put as much effort as I should into these chapters. So far, I've just been sitting idly at my computer typing whatever comes to mind, then putting it up almost immediately…usually without editing. I'm depending on my natural inclination to write correctly to keep the spelling and grammar in check.

**Chapter Five:** Destiny

It didn't take much for me to come to accept the fact that the Huntsclan took the Betrayer from her parents. After all, Old or New, the whole idea of the Huntsclan was to destroy magical creatures. If the Betrayer's parents had not wanted to give her up, despite her having the Mark of the Huntsclan, I doubt any Huntsmaster would have trouble taking her.

No, what was more disturbing was that the Betrayer was so intent, so focused, on making that wish. I couldn't even begin to imagine what would have made her so determined to do something that would throw her whole life away in a heartbeat. And for the sake of the very same creatures she had spent her life trying to slay. It was all so illogical; even if the Huntsclan had taken her, did she really hate them enough to kill them all? My vision…it wasn't just a dream. I had just seen countless beings, ones that anytime before now I would have called comrades, murdered at the whim of one girl…and it just didn't make sense.

Would I have done the same as that girl…Rose? That was her name, I think. What _would_ I have done if I had been in the same position? Would I have thrown my life away for the sake of others…for the sake of _love_? I don't know…somehow, I'm not sure I would have. It would just be too much…

The dream haunted me every day and every night, and especially when I faced those two dragons. Every time I looked one of the dragons in the eyes, I was brought back to that night, finding myself falling into the same motions and maneuvers that the Betrayer had made when she had been fighting.

A swipe of the Huntstaff, dodging of a tail swipe, a final uppercut kick, and…I had her. I knew it.

After months of hunting these two wretched creatures, things were finally falling into place. The others had the older dragon subdued, and there I was, about to fulfill my destiny. My dragon was weak; although she held her stance, I could tell she could give in at any moment. Keeping my staff trained on her, I reached behind myself for my chains. They were Huntsclan dragon-hunting standard chains, made of unicorn horn and lined with sphinx hair; there was no way she would escape them.

My muscles were tensed as I stared into the dragon's eyes, my own gaze gleaming with hatred and triumph. We circled, taking step after step, but never taking our eyes off of each other. I could feel the others watching me, waiting to see what I would do. And it felt good; I had power, strength…whatever doubts I had about the Huntsclan didn't matter now. I was ready, the moment was perfect, but still…I hesitated. And I don't know why.

The dragon seemed to sense this, and she crowed arrogantly, "What's the matter? You scared, Hunts?"

Something snapped inside of me then, and I lunged forward, lashing out with my staff, my face contorted in rage. My eyes gleamed maliciously as each swipe tore at the dragon's pelt. The dragon got weaker and weaker with each blow, until finally I was able to dodge enough of her attacks to get close enough to wrap the chains around her. Her arms were pinned to her side, and her muzzle was tied, and it didn't take long for the sphinx hair to take effect. She was weakening with every passing second. And finally, she fell. I held back for a moment, watching her continue to struggle. There was no use; she wasn't getting away this time.

"Don't fight it, dragon. This ends now," I said, beginning to bear down on her with the blade of my staff trained on her. "I'm going to slay you. It's my destiny."

"You really think so?" was my reply. From where she had fallen, the dragon was turned away from me, but she twisted her neck to stare me in the eyes. There was no fear in her green-eyed gaze, only a challenge. "Fine then. Accept your destiny."

Accept my destiny…I had heard that before. But where? And then I remembered…

It was back on my eleventh birthday. I was in my home, watching carefully as my mother applied the last details on a stunning chocolate cake – mine, I suppose. I shot a furtive glance at my mother before inching a finger towards the frosting, but she swatted my hand away with an amused look on her face. I looked hurt for a moment, but soon I was bubbling with quiet laughter. This was me as I should have been, but, as I knew all too well, it wouldn't last.

Suddenly there was a loud crash, and a dragon spiraled into the window, its wings bound by manacles of green energy. Three Huntsclan masters followed, climbing through the window after the dragon. I cried out as bits of glass and brick showered me and, although my eyes were closed then, I could feel my parents brush me to the side, shielding me from the fight that I could hear going on.

"You are kin of the American Dragon," a cold voice growled. I recognized it as the voice of the Huntsmaster, full of deep-minded hatred. "Tell us where he's been hiding, and we might spare your pitiful life."

There was no response; clearly, this dragon wasn't about to tell them anything, even though it probably knew very well that standing in the way of the Huntsmaster for anything was very near suicidal. I heard a shrill cry, and I knew that the Huntsmaster had probably struck the dragon with a near-fatal blow, only injuring it enough to make it talk. I wasn't surprised by it. It was common in the Huntsclan to use torture to extort information, but I knew all too well that the dragon would not be so lucky with the next strike. It would be meant to kill.

My parents cried out, and I opened my eyes to see them lunging indignantly at the Huntsmaster. My father grabbed his staff and tried to take it, but the other two masters had charged up their staffs and shot two short blasts at my parents; one hit my father squarely in the back, and I was too transfixed to see what had befallen my mother.

Tears of rage in my eyes, I ran forward and began to pummel the Huntsmaster with my fists as hard as I could, but he merely looked down at me in amusement, his eyes as stony-cold as ever. The other two masters made no move, obviously not seeing me as a threat. After a while, he grasped my left arm and twisted it, which made me cry out in pain. I expected him to throw me down then, but his gaze was focused on the back of my left hand, where my dragon birthmark ended.

"Let go," I said, trying to wrench my arm from his grasp, but he held it tightly and I couldn't break free.

"You…you have the mark of the Huntsclan," he said, and for the first time, I could see a flicker of uneasiness in his frosty stare, and maybe…just a hint of fear? I looked at him in confusion, and after a moment, he started to pull me towards the window. "Come. There is much for you to learn."

"No! Let me go!" In a jolt of fear, I twisted away from him and tried to run, but he placed a large hand on my shoulder and spun me around. With his firm grip digging into my shoulders, he leaned threateningly forward until his face was in inch from mine. I was by then paralyzed with fear, and the room began blacking out. Right before I blanked out, I could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke.

"Accept your destiny…"

This all left me back to where I was, my feet half-dug in sand, and a dragon lying helplessly before me…except now, I knew what had brought me to this point. Dragons didn't kill my parents, the Huntsclan did. The Huntsmaster was not my savior, he was my kidnapper. None of it made sense, and my confusion only fed my anger until I felt ready to explode. I was seeing red, and I wasn't going to be satisfied until this day was over and I was free. I wasn't Kara then; I was Huntsgirl at her strongest, this dragon was my enemy, and everyone else could die for all I cared. Screw them all. The Huntsclan wanted me to accept my destiny? Fine. They would get what they wanted.

With my blood boiling and a look of pure hatred on my face, I raised my staff and brought it down, the blade piercing the dragon's heart with an ominous flash of green. I held the blade there, watching unmoved as the light died from the creature's eyes. I could hear cries of triumph from behind me, but I just didn't care anymore. Wrenching my staff from the dragon's hide, I stood there, shoulders hunched, until a hand on my shoulder startled me. I lashed out behind me with the blade of my staff, still tainted with the dragon's blood, and found myself with my auburn gaze trained on a fellow apprentice, a long gash across his arm where I had dealt him a blow. My eyes flashed fearfully, and I pushed past him, growling, "Leave me alone."

And that's how I wanted to be now. I didn't care that I had slain my first dragon, or that I had just found out the true fate of my parents. I just wanted to be alone, like I always was.


	6. Decisions

Thanks to those who reviewed. In response to the Jake/Rose question, I'll just say read this chapter and keep reading the rest of this story. Rose is about to become quite important…Jake kind of isn't, but he'll be there. / Well, he is _kind of_ important…it depends on what "important" means to you.

Oh, and I'm really sorry about not updating in so long. What with the end of school, my sweet sixteen, summer school, AP summer work, the start of school, and all that jazz, I was just too busy to work on this.

Not to go back on my word, but I won't be making a sequel. Instead, I'm going to finish the story up here. It'll be a little longer than I've planned this to be, but that's okay. 3

Also, if you happen to be a fan of my writing, be on the lookout for another one shot titled "We Shall be Called the Huntsclan" which is basically the legend of how the Huntsclan started these many years ago. Or at least my version of it, with Adelmar, Aiolos, and Sophus.

**Chapter Six:** Decisions

I'd done terrible things. I had taken the lives of many magical creatures, lastly a dragon. I didn't even know who I was anymore. I wasn't bubbly, mischievous Kara, but I wasn't the merciless and hate-driven Huntsgirl either. I didn't even really know what I was doing, either. I had always thought that the Huntsclan and its motives were a little shady, but still noble…in other words, the end justifies the means. But was that really true? I had nothing against these magical creatures, nor could I see a reason for any of the Huntsclan to hate them. With our teachings and legends all we had to go on, it seemed as if we were murdering these beings in cold-blood. Did that make us evil?

I couldn't try to ignore the birthmark we all shared, though. The Huntsclan insisted that our dragon-shaped birthmarks meant that we were destined to slay dragons. But how could destiny be laid out in a simple mark on our skin? It was the 'mark of the Huntsclan' in any form, since we all shared it, but I had to question how the Huntsmaster and all others could think it could even hint at meaning we were meant to slay dragons. For all I knew, it could have meant we were destined to fight alongside dragons…if it had to do with destiny at all.

All of these thoughts were swirling in my mind, and I didn't want to face them. I didn't want to leave my room at all, but with the young dragon's skull and pelt there, ever reminding me of what I had done, I found myself often wandering aimlessly through the Huntslair. Lair…even the word sounded wrong. Everything was wrong, and I knew that I wouldn't be happy here any longer. But where could I go? Even though they weren't killed by dragons as the Huntsmaster had told me, my parents were still dead. I didn't know who any of my relatives were, and nor did I believe there was a home for wayward fourteen-year-old dragon slayers. Oh, and there was that other little thing…about not being able to leave the Huntsclan. I doubt a departure of any sort would have pleased the Huntsmaster.

The Huntsmaster…he was the reason for all of this. _He_ brought me to the Huntsclan. _He_ was the reason my parents were dead. _He_ was the one who trained me to hate dragons and other magical creatures to the point that I wished them all dead. _He_ was the reason I was broken and left almost without a soul. The Huntsclan took so much away from me, and I knew to regain what I had lost, I would have to strike at its heart. But not yet; there wasn't anything I could do yet, and just the realization of that pained me even further.

Sooner than I had expected, for I had expected being trapped in this forsaken branch for at least a few months, I was being shipped off back to The Academy to be accepted as a full member of the Huntsclan. Not a master, by no means. The Huntsmaster is too wise to believe that every fool's first slaying is the direct result of training and hard work. Even a blind slayer finds a dragon once in a while, as he used to say. Instead, he or she is moved to a hunting party closer to him, so that he could personally watch for signs of a true hunter or huntress – one that has mastered the fighting and slaying techniques developed over the thousands of years of the Huntsclan's existence. Only then would one take the title of master.

And so, I went from wandering through that abysmal southern Huntslair, to wandering through The Academy. The day I arrived, I was given the same room I had shared before, the only difference being a sleek black cape folded neatly atop my bed. Though their belongings were still there, 72 and 74 were long gone, by the overall look of it; both of them had an affinity for cleanliness, and the room was speckled haphazardly with stray items – a state it would never have gotten in had either of them still been around. 74, I was sure, had been assigned to a master to train under…likely as far away as I had been sent. But 72…she was too young to begin her apprenticeship. What had happened to her?

I started each morning the same way. First, I dressed myself, which was a more complicated ordeal than one would think. Though I usually wore the main parts of my uniform – loose black pants over a forest green body suit with tapered sleeves – to sleep, there was a myriad of other things I needed to put on over that. Flexible black boots went on, the ends of the pants tucked within them. A tight gray, apparently "claw-proof", vest went on after that, then black gloves with hardened backs. The gloves were our "back-up" weapons, in the case that any of us lost our staffs. With a simple flex of the wrist, a blade of energy would be summoned up, for us to use as we so pleased. Such was the typical uniform of any novice or apprentice who had yet to slay their first dragon. After that monumental moment, two new pieces were added – the cape and telltale dragon skull. The cape was easy enough for me to adjust to; it was easily put on with the addition of dragon hide shoulder pads. The skull, however, was another struggle completely. It was easy enough to put on, as any one would think, but it was an ever constant reminder of…you know.

Anyway, going on. After dressing myself, I made my way through the hallways to the cafeteria. This was always a source of blissful distraction. In addition to the obvious cacophony that settled over the room, there was always a hint of angst and the ubiquitous scraps over whom the best hunter was, or who was going to be the Huntsgirl or Huntsboy of their class. You know, the usual. Despite the fact that I had to incessantly watch over my shoulder for any jocks that happened to be following me, since they all apparently wanted to date a girl who could slay a dragon and no less, it was alright. The meals were decent, and I was spared the usual rush of getting ready for training; it was always amusing to watch the younger students scramble around, scared of being late, for if they were, they would have to fight a magical creature in full view of their peers. As was I, back then; not one of us ever fancied having to do battle with various magical creatures prematurely, far before any of us knew the proper techniques.

Sooner than I'd hoped to, I found myself falling back into the routines of The Academy. I was losing sight of what really mattered, far too often finding myself content with demonstrating for dragon slaying classes or running errands for the masters. How could I have been happy like that? How could I have even _thought_ of ever being happy like that? I was lost…lost in an endless cycle of meaningless movements, contenting myself with the mediocre.

It was my new assignment that really jolted me back into reality. The Huntsmaster had called me into his chambers personally. Our conversation was much more…daunting than our last, back when he had named me Huntsgirl, even as frightening as that had been.

"Huntsgirl, you have slain your first dragon, have you not? Congratulations," he had said, mere moments after I had entered. Taken by surprise at the quick acknowledgement, I stiffened and bowed, though his reaction was far from what I had expected. His eyes narrowed, but he raised one hand and called, "There is no need for such subtleties. I need to ask you something."

Raising my gaze from the ground, I stared into his eyes, trying to steady my voice as I replied, "Yes, master?"

"What did the dragon look like?" There was such cold indifference in his voice; I wondered if he actually _cared_ about what it looked like. I managed to reply, "Well, it was rather small…she probably hadn't really - "

"Insignificant details," he muttered, raising his own staff. Rather unwillingly, I flinched, convinced that I had done something wrong. His amusement flashed in his eyes as a hologram appeared just above the blade of his staff. It was long-boded and tan-colored with a distinctively spiky crown of scales on its head. "Tell me, is _this_ the dragon you have slain?"

Staring into his amused gaze, I took a deep breath and said, "Yes, this is said dragon. I have the pelt, if you'd like to see it. And, as you know, I wear its skull with pride." I needed his trust; from what I could see, I had it already, so I might as well have kept it, and that meant telling him what he wanted to hear.

He seemed to relax a bit as I said this, sinking into a long silent pause, though at the same time my muscles tensed. I don't know why, but I was scared. Very, very scared. Something about his calm, indifferent silence unnerved me, but at least he seemed not to notice. After what seemed like an eternity, he went on. "Very good, Huntsgirl. You are…most definitely one of us."

I tipped my head down so that my skull helmet shielded my face from his gaze to hide the anger reminiscent in my eyes, but I still had to bite my tongue to hold back a sharp reply. Unable to say anything myself, I waited for his next action. This came fairly quickly, as he went on, "You will need a new assignment. I was thinking…"

"If I may, master, I have a suggestion," I said, my voice edged with anger, not at the dragon, but at the Huntsmaster and his twisted ways. "You told me that it was the American Dragon that murdered my parents. I want to hunt _that_ dragon, above every other one. I have a score to settle with him."

"An interesting request, Huntsgirl."

He didn't realize just how _interesting_ the request was. He thought I was trustworthy. He thought I was loyal. He really thought I only wanted to slay the American Dragon.

He thought wrong.

"Very well. You shall join me as my new apprentice. Adelmar knows I need a new one after what happened to number 72."

My eyes widened in shock as I heard my old roommate's name, and I immediately tensed up. 72 was the Huntsmaster's apprentice? But…she was too young. Things couldn't have gone well. Weakly, I asked, "72? What happened to her?"

"We lost her to hobgoblins," he said, waving a hand as if to dismiss the thought. "She was no loss. She wasn't strong enough."

At this my fists clenched tightly, and I longed to bring them down over the Huntsmaster's head. _She wasn't strong enough_. That's all he had to say! No remorse behind his words; he couldn't even _pretend_ to be sorry that she was…gone.

"Y-yes…master. She was…not strong enough," I replied, fighting to hold back tears.

Here, in these past seconds, I had heard all I needed to hear to make my decision: I had to leave the Huntsclan.

And not only that. I had to speak to the American Dragon. And above all else, I had to speak the American Dragon's wife, the one the Huntsclan knows as the Betrayer, the one I know to be Rose.


	7. To Find a Dragon

**Chapter Seven:** To Find a Dragon

"Huntsgirl, what do you see?"

"It looks like a krylock. Very rare, master," I replied. This was my first night out with the Huntsmaster, and much to my mixed dismay and pleasure, he had decided to take me out alone; it showed that he trusted me, yet at the same time, I couldn't help being displeased with the fact that, if any magical creature came along, _I _would be expected to do the slaying – exactly what I had previously decided I would never do again.

"Very good. Now, you have the vial I gave you?" he asked. I nodded, knowing where he was going with this. We needed more krylock venom for the Academy's stores. Naturally, it came down upon the upper-level apprentices to fetch it; the masters couldn't be bothered with the task, and nor could the novices or younger apprentices be trusted to come back with anything of value. Apparently middle-ground was perfection here. And, of course, the Huntsmaster jumped at the chance for me to face the krylock – he had wanted to watch me face a real threat ever since I had been apprenticed to him.

Gripping my staff more tightly, I replied, "No need to say any more, master."

With that, I leaped down from our perch atop a fire escape onto the roof of the next building over, where the krylock was deviously eying a group of leprechauns that were passing below. It didn't hear me as I landed softly on the edge of the building, aiming my staff carefully; with any luck, I would be able to stun with one blow, get the venom, and be done.

But, then again, when have things ever worked out properly for me?

Oh, yes, I hit my mark. But as it turns out, the fight wasn't going to end there as I thought it would. No, that would have been too easy. Instead, all the blast of energy from my staff did was anger the thing. And trust me, angering a krylock is not something you want to do.

The demon turned on me, crying out in pain as the energy I had shot it with still crackled about its body. I flinched slightly, then bunched my legs beneath me and prepared to spring out of the way as it began to charge at me. Not a second too soon, I sprang upward, flipping head-over-heels over the krylock, and blasting at it again as I came down. Luckily, after this attack, the creature moved no more, finally stunned. All that was left to do was to collect the venom.

As I took a few steps toward the creature, I self-consciously glanced up toward the Huntsmaster. I don't know why. Perhaps there was still a small bit inside of me that wished to do well, to be praised by him – him above all others, though my hatred for him burned strong as anything.

Surely that was it, because I ducked my head in embarrassment when he gave no acknowledgement of my dangerous feat; instead, he merely nodded, turned away, and disappeared into the dark of the night.

I made my way back to the hideout alone. Very alone.

But maybe alone was good. It allowed me to concentrate. And no, not just concentrate on how much I hated my life, but on…other things. Things concerning the uses of krylock venom. And bat guano, troll belches…all together in a potion.

A portal spell. That was the answer to finding the American Dragon. And it would only take me a night to complete, now that I had krylock venom. The spell would be the easy part. What would the hard part be, you ask? What was the hard part, then? My heart. Simple as that.

Sure, I _needed_ to find and talk to Rose. But what did I _want_ above all else?

Truthfully, I wanted a lot.

A part of me wanted to talk to the pink dragon that the Huntsclan had cornered the night my parents were killed. I was sure that she could answer so many questions I had about that night, and all it would take would be for me to call out here name: Haley Long.

A different part of me wanted to head back to Florida and kick my previous masters' Hunts-butts – pardon the pun. Sorry, but I just never liked them.

But perhaps my strongest want was to see 74 again. Before…it really wasn't a proper good-bye. It shouldn't have even been a good-bye at all! If we were…normal, not marked…_tainted_ by our birthmarks, maybe things would have worked out between us. If I went to him, we could run away, far away, back into the blissful innocence we both had when we met at the age of nine:

_A girl walked into a seemingly empty room, glancing about fearfully. It took her a while to notice that she was not alone; a boy, who looked like he was her age, stared curiously at her from the top of a bunk bed near the back of the room. As her gaze met up with his, a good-natured grin spread across his face, and he blurted out, "Hey there! You must be that new girl the Huntsmaster rescued earlier. Are you staying here now? 'Cause if you are, that's awesome. It's been so lonely being alone."_

_The words went by very quickly, and it took the girl a moment to register what he had said to her. Then she replied, "He…did rescue me then? Are you sure?"_

"_Yeah, of course," said the boy, flipping down off of the bed to land cat-like on his feet. " Him and my parents and all the other masters talk all the time about those stupid dragons that attack people. That's why we're here, all of us. To protect people from those kinds of creatures. And one day I'm going to be Huntsmaster too."_

_His chest puffed out pridefully, and the girl couldn't help but laugh. The boy stared incredulously at her for a moment, then asked, quite seriously, "What's so funny?"_

"_Nothing, nothing," said the girl, still chuckling. She set down her pitifully small bag of belongings – which contained nothing significant but her new uniform – and went on, "So, what's your name?"_

"_I'm number 74."_

"_No, your _real_ name.."_

"_Um…" Clearly the question was bothering him. There was a long pause before he answered, "I guess I don't really have a real name. At least not now. But I think my parents used to call me Larkin."_

_At this, the girl erupted into laughter again; any sorrow or apprehensiveness she had felt before had simply evaporated._

"_What's so funny this time?" asked the boy again, clearly amazed at how giggly and…girly, this girl was._

"_Your name sounds funny. Larkin. Ha!"_

"_I don't suppose your name is any better," he said, lowering his chin in slight embarrassment._

"_I'm Kara," she said, an inexplicable smile growing on her face. The boy raised his chin again and replied, "That's a nice name…"_

That meeting was my light at the end of the tunnel…except after that day, I had turned around and gone back into the darkness. And now, what I would give to go back to the light…to see him, to see my sweetly singing Lark, as I had come to call him.

But maybe that would be asking too much.

And so, the next day, when I stood in the apothecary of the Huntslair, portal spell floating in front of me, my next words were resolute.

"Show me the American Dragon."

A scene materialized before me; the dragon was flying over New York, which was only natural – at this time, he ought to be doing his rounds of the city, looking out for…well, people like me, Huntsclan. With a deep breath, I leaped forward, through the portal, and latched myself on the only thing as high up as the dragon was – the dragon himself.

"Yo, girl, how did you…?" he exclaimed. Apparently my "surprise attack" startled him. "Get off me, Hunts-punk!"

"Oh yes, and plummet – oh, I don't know, it looks like at least one hundred feet – to my death? Brilliant idea, dragon," I shot back. Honestly, must all dragons I face call me _Hunts-punk_? It was getting to be quite irritating, to say the least. "Oh, and by the way, you're starting to fall. I can tell. You have wings, don't you? Use them, dragon, or we're _both_ going to crash into a building or something."

He didn't answer, again, not surprisingly. Instead he had reached a clawed hand back to grasp my leg – the only bit of me he could reach – and started pulling on it. At this, I reached up and pulled on his left ear, an action that was answered by an, admittedly, pleasing screech of pain, and hissed, "I'm not here to slay you, idiot. In case you haven't noticed, I haven't got any of my weapons with me."

Something I said must have gotten to him, because he abruptly pulled up and started vigorously flapping his wings. I breathed a soft sigh of relief as the buildings below became smaller, and the clouds became closer.

"You're Huntsgirl, aren't you?" asked the dragon suddenly.

I really didn't want to answer that…but I did anyway. Sort of. "So what if I am?"

"Well, why are you…I don't know, on my back, if you don't mean to slay me? Isn't that, you know, your sort of thing?" he asked. God, this dragon was acting stupid. Did he learn nothing from marrying Rose? Didn't he realize that some of us "Hunts-punks" weren't as happy with the Huntsclan as he thought?

"Just...take me somewhere we can talk."

Neither one of us said another word after that until we reached his home. When we landed, my heart skipped a beat as I realized that I was just steps away from meeting the only person to successfully leave the Huntsclan: Rose, Betrayer of the Clan, and my new shining light.


	8. Trust

**Chapter Eight:** Trust

"So that's it, huh?"

"I knew I had to find you, talk to you. I need help." _As much as I hate getting help from a _dragon_ of all people_, I added silently. I'd spend the good part of the night explaining my life story (or at least the parts I could remember) to the American Dragon – not something I could have ever imagined doing, nor something I took any pleasure in. The first light of dawn was beginning to peek over the building tops and my absence from the Huntslair would be noted, but I made no move to leave. I wasn't going back – not then, anyway.

"Help from a dragon?" he said, a skeptical tone to his voice. As I looked into his eyes, I knew he wasn't going to make this easy for me. He didn't trust me any more than I trusted him. His gaze traveled from my eyes, to my clenched fists, to the dragon skull helmet that I was wearing. Truthfully, I'd just forgotten to take it off, but the dragon seemed to take offense at it; and if I wasn't mistaken, he gave a little shudder of familiarity as he stared at the skull, as if he recognized the face it had once been behind. After the longest time, he went on, "Why? You seem to have chosen your loyalties already, Huntsgirl."

I could only stare incredulously at him. How could he possibly suggest that I was still loyal to the Huntsclan after what I'd found out? "You don't trust me. Fine then, dragon. Fine. I'll be going now."

I should have expected nothing more from a filthy dragon. As much as I hated the Huntsclan now, I hated dragons more. Selfish, violent, stupid creatures, the lot of them. I'd begun to turn away when I felt a claw on my shoulder and heard his voice next to my ear. "Now, Huntsgirl. What made you think you could trust _me_?"

At this, I just stared at him. Something about the tone of his voice paralyzed me, not in fear, but in curiosity. I wanted to make him understand. I _had_ to make him understand.

"I'm a dragon," he said. I nodded.

"You've never met me before," he went on. I nodded again.

"For all you know, I – "

"I have no one else to trust. That's why." The words just sort of came out, but every ounce of truth left in me echoed out of them. But even I was surprised at the bitter resentment in my voice. In a time when I thought I couldn't break anymore, I shattered. I lost myself. I just…lost. "Do you think I want to slay you, dragon? I don't. I just…don't. I can't do this anymore. I know you don't trust me, but you have to help me. I can't go back. I just can't."

His next words surprised me more than anything.

"I trust you."

My eyes, where tears had begun to form, turned to look at the dragon; where a red-scaled creature once stood, a spiky-haired man looked back at me, and just beyond him, I could see another familiar shape. Though they were both years older, the pair was recognizable – Jake Long, the American Dragon, and the former Huntsgirl and betrayer of the Clan, now Rose Long. Both looked on with hints of sorrow in their eyes. But behind Rose's sorrow was a mask of distrust and anger.

"Well, I don't," she said brusquely, her blue eyes narrowing. "Jake, can't you see that skull? Don't you recognize the shape?"

She turned to look at Jake, as did I. Not surprisingly, he nodded, murmuring weakly, "It was hers. Juliet's."

I didn't know who Juliet was to them, but I couldn't ignore the way they both looked at me then, as if I were something vile, something to be hated. And I could tell that Rose _did_ hate me.

It seemed like an eternity passed while her blue gaze bore into me, forcing all the hurt that was eating away at Rose into my own heart. I felt her pain, and in some strange, unspoken way, I _was_ her pain.

Finally, she took a few steps toward me, halting an arm's length away. Her hand was resting in her jeans pocket, and I tensed as she drew out a single photograph. She stared at it for the longest time, her expression stony, before she finally handed it over to me without saying a word. She turned away and walked back to stand next to Jake. Though her back was turned to me, I could hear her stifled breathing and knew she was close to tears.

The picture was of a young girl. A smile was blooming upon her face as she reached up to pet the mane of a unicorn. I turned the picture over, where there was a caption: Juliet Rose Long, age 6, Magus Petting Zoo.

I couldn't move, and so I stood there, staring, wishing I could just disappear. I could just barely hear Jake, whispering in Rose's ear, "We still have Brad."

A sudden scuffling caught my attention, as well as Jake's and Rose's. In a flash of blue, Jake changed into his dragon form and dove over the edge of the building. Rose and I stared apprehensively at each other. After a moment, Jake became visible, flapping back to land on the rooftop, holding a struggling green bundle upside down by the leg who was protesting…loudly.

"Stupid dragon! Give me back my staff so I can – hello, what have we here?"

As you might have guessed, the "green bundle" happened to be a fellow Huntsclan apprentice. One I hadn't seen in quite some time. And he now had the smuggest look on his face. I hated it.

"So, the American Dragon, the Betrayer, and who's this?" he said, pointing at each of us in turn. "A traitor, no doubt. I could hear you, number…"

"It's Huntsgirl, actually…" I said. "And you're number…"

"It's Huntsboy, actually," he said, that same arrogant look on his face. "The Huntsmaster's going to be very interested in hearing about this, Huntsgirl."

I looked into his eyes for a moment, almost wishing that I was wrong, and that this really wasn't who I thought it was.

But I couldn't ignore that familiar twinkle in his eye.

"But you won't tell him. I know you," I said. I made a point of walking meaningfully toward him, moving forward until my face was next to his so that I could feel his warm breath on my face. It felt good. "And you know me."

He seemed to flinch for a moment, confused, but then went on stubbornly, "No, I don't. I don't associate with traitors."

"Really, now?" I said, a playful tone to my voice. I turned about, took a few steps, and three over my shoulder, "You did say you would see me in the field someday."

"Kara?"

Bingo. It took him long enough.

He finally stopped struggling, and I nodded at Jake to put him down. Once he was standing, I could get a good look at him. Though we were both older, he was still recognizable as number 74. As Larkin. As a friend.

"Kara, what are you doing here? Talking to this…dragon? And _her_." He was staring at Rose, a look of deep contempt on his face.

I smirked at him. "I thought you could hear us."

"Well…" he said, looking away. "It was kind of hard listening from the fire escape."

At that moment, I couldn't hold myself back anymore. Almost leaping forward, I hugged him. Hard. And I didn't let go.

"Kara! What are you hugging me for?"

Yeah, he started to struggle again. I didn't care. It just made me laugh. "Because you're…you. I haven't seen you in so long."

"Yeah, I…I guess not," he said, softly. I finally let go and took a step or two back, just to look at him again. He seemed really uneasy about something. He went on, "Is it true? All of it?"

I nodded.

It was probably hard for him to hear. As long as I had known him, he had hero-worshipped the Huntsmaster, wanted to be like him. But after listening to me, he probably didn't want to even look at the Huntsmaster anymore.

"You're just going to have to trust me on this, Lark," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at it blankly. "And I'm going to have to trust you not to tell anyone. Not yet."

He nodded, looked over at me, and, against the tension of the moment, smiled.

Things never looked so bright.


End file.
